Inquisitormaster Fan Art Novels & Stories

“Master Scott stands as an absolute icon in the painting territories and currently presides over the Supreme Painters and Calligraphers Alliance. Meeting his powerful wolf face-to-face has been my lifelong aspiration since my childhood training!” Haley’s smile glints with manufactured warmth for the camera lens. “Master Scott devotes his entire inner beast to his craft and rarely entertains strange wolves from the outer borders. Our forest show has cultivated this rare opportunity for your hands to encounter his genius personally. Seize this massive moment—let’s discover which young wolf might earn the ultimate privilege of becoming his official student.” Amara Mensah’s long eyelashes flutte

Ani sat on a chair across from her, sprawled in that careless, elegant way that gods probably invented. Corvus perched on the arm of the couch, tearing meat from a bone Ani tossed to him, his black eyes glinting. Ani didn’t reply, which seemed to irk Nyx. “Your Muse thinks you were imprisoned,” she continued, her tone accusatory. “What is that all about? No prison can hold you, Master! You can’t---!”

Then he noticed Lisa was pierced too. "My, my, my," Master said. "What have we here?" He got up to inspect us more closely, circling each one of us. "Some of our new slavery items, sir," Rhonda said as he touched her gold nipple post, making her nipple swell. "Lisa and I have pierced labia as well, Master." This caused him to kneel down and inspect our cunts more closely. I could see him lean in and it looked as though he intended to lick Lisa's pussy.

I admitted to myself, I wasn't entirely comfortable with that image. On the other hand, wasn't that how it was for Master now? He was working with Jerry today. Every time he saw Jerry, did he visualize him with my lips wrapped around his black prick? I imagined he did. We thought alike, which helped make our marriage work. Did Master feel the same pangs I imagined whenever he saw his friend, and wouldn't he see them for the rest of his life? Nor, was my slavery over yet. In the next two weeks, who knew what else I would do if faced with his choices? At some point, would Master be seeing mental images of his wife fucked in the cunt or ass. If Master could live with those images in order to gi

I anxiously told him. “He did what?” His tone raised and he looked like he was ready to come back and beat the shit out of Thomas again. “I-I don’t know, he looked like he was obsessed but that was the first time I saw him so I don’t understand,” I claimed. “Fangbangers,” Master whispered, so I didn’t hear it clearly because I noticed that he was clenching his fists again. “He was not obsessed with you, but your scent and sex, he’s like…a rapist,” Master told me, which made me stop.

Unbeknownst to her, her timid, animal-like presence, skittish, wide-eyed, and radiating raw fragility had caught the unwavering attention of the Head Master. He stood at the far end of the bar, a towering figure exuding authority in a tailored black shirt that hugged his broad, muscular shoulders, his expression perpetually unreadable behind a neatly trimmed beard that added to his enigmatic allure. Known simply as "The Owner" or "Head Master" to the bar's elite clientele, he was a legend in this underground world—ruthless in his control, yet revered for his unwavering fairness and deep understanding of the human psyche.

Seeing that Caspian was not interested to be an inscriber anymore, Fabian felt relieved. When they reached downstairs, Caspian appeared indifferent as he asked, "Speaking on inscriber… Since they invested so much in their research, I bet the incomes they earn after would be astonishing too." Knowing that Caspian could not go down the inscriber’s path, Fabian did not think much and directly nodded. "Of course! The more famous the inscriber master is, the higher his commission for one inscription is. Moreover, no matter how much profit he's earning, it'll still be considered little. However, one must be an inscriber master for that to happen. If it's impossible, being an apprentice will suffic

With that, he pivoted, the sharp sound of his boots echoing against the stone floor as he strode out. Outside, the air shifted with unease. Dom’s students, scattered near the entrance, stiffened as they caught sight of Master Derick. Whispers rippled through them, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Why was their master’s sworn enemy here? Why was he walking away so calmly… with the boy who had fought a master? Was this his punishment? Derick noticed their stares but didn’t falter. Instead, he flashed them a smile, one so effortlessly cruel it made their blood run cold. Without a word, he descended the steps and slid into his waiting car.

Vikram pushed the door open, revealing a cavernous chamber bathed in crimson light. At the room's center, on a throne-like chair, sat the Master. The Master's gaze commanded attention, his piercing eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity. His skin was deathly pale, yet radiant with an unnatural glow. Chiseled features, sharp as cut glass, seemed carved from the very darkness itself. His raven-black hair cascaded down his back like a waterfall of night, framing a face that was both beautiful and terrifying. Full lips curled into a sly smile, revealing razor-sharp fangs stained with the remnants of his last victim.

I had to, just so Master wouldn't punish me. Instead of moving it, helping me through my orgasm, Master stepped back and surveyed his work. His eyes traveled from the clamps on my chest, down to the gel shining in my navel, to where the steel handle of the plug jutted from between my ass cheeks, nestled against the frame. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. It wasn't warmth. It was satisfaction. The look of an artist appraising his panting. “You're a work of art," he said, proving my assumption right. The awe in his voice didn't match the hotness in his gaze.